


The Truest Knight

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtly Love, F/F, King Renly Baratheon, Tourneys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Margaery's attention is drawn to an unexpected competitor at her husband's tourney.





	The Truest Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



Margaery tilted her head back to absorb more of the late summer sunshine. She would never have expected her brother and her husband's mad plan to take the throne would succeed, had expected much less that Renly's brother would agree to terms, but it seemed even Stannis was full of surprises. He was tolerant of allowing his nameday to be used as an excuse to hold a tourney. 

"More wine, my dear?" 

Margaery smiled and held out her goblet for Renly to refill. "Thank you, husband."

Renly smiled back at her and she laughed, hoping this would make them look like a happy pair of newlyweds. While she was an enthusiastic participant in the deception, and she enjoyed being queen, she was also conscious of never letting her guard down, not when Loras' well-being was at stake.

It certainly wasn't a struggle; Renly truly was good company.

"Loras is next, isn't he?" 

"Aye, and he tilts against Lady Brienne." Renly set down his goblet, a smile of eager pride on his face, and Margaery once more felt the satisfaction that Loras was truly happy because Renly obviously adored him. 

And Loras was certain to win. Margaery had never seen Brienne wield a lance, and Loras was the stronger rider. Still, she held her breath as the two mounts charged forward. She could never quite relax when she watched Loras joust. Willas' presence was too strong in her mind. There was a crack of wood as the lances met, and before she realized what was happening, Loras was lying in the dust.

She rose to her feet as the crowd gasped. Renly gripped her arm, and she seized his hand, watching as Brienne of Tarth dropped her lance and dismounted, running to Loras. Margaery did not relax until she saw him rise to his feet with Brienne's assistance.

"He is fine," she murmured to Renly, as Loras was led into the combatants' tent. "He has taken much worse with no trouble. Most like, he will simply be mad he didn't win."

"I know." Renly gave her a shaky half-smile, then seized his wine goblet and downed the contents. "Brienne acted admirably. I will have to tell her that."

"Certainly." Margaery's gaze was drawn from her husband to the figure in blue armor which moved from the tent back to her mount, leading it away so the next joust could be held. It was only expected that a true knight would show such concern for a brother in arms. 

For all his assurances to the contrary, Renly did not truly relax until Loras had climbed into the stands to sit next to them.

"I missed my mark," was the first thing he said, no worse for wear. 

"At least you are safe," Margaery reminded him. 

"Aye." Loras still looked rueful. 

"Lady Brienne would be a worthy victor," she said. 

Renly nodded. "If it cannot be Loras, let it be another of my guard."

Margaery sat back to watch the rest of the tourney, but she was somehow dissatisfied that Brienne should win only in Loras' place.

As the tourney wore on, this outcome seemed more likely. Margaery had been aware of Brienne's skill in the melee, which she'd first witnessed at the impromptu tourney held on their progress to Storm's End. Since then, they had been at war, with no time for such things, and she had become far more used to the silent presence at her or Renly's side.

It was quite a contrast to watch Brienne unhorse one man after another until there were no more left. When her final opponent staggered to his feet, a murmur rippled through the crowd, as though it were a surprise that she had won. 

Undeterred by the murmurs, Brienne turned her mount toward the royal box as Renly rose to his feet to proclaim her the victor.

"And now, whom will you crown your queen of love and beauty?" he asked, as he handed down the crown of Tyrell roses.

"There is but one queen here today," Brienne said, and her gaze settled on Margaery.

It ought not to have been a surprise, but Margaery felt a blush come to her cheeks as she lowered her head.

This was not the first time she had had the honor, though the other times had been at Highgarden and she knew her crowning had been due to her position as the hosting lord's daughter. It had once even been by her own brother Garlan, who had crowned her when Leonette had been in childbed. 

But this was somehow different. Her heart was racing and she found she had trouble meeting Brienne's earnest blue eyes when she lifted her head. 

Brienne bowed. "My queen," she said.

"Thank you, Lady Brienne." She managed to force the words out, far below her normal volume of speech. What in the world was wrong with her?

"A good match, Lady Brienne," Loras said. "You have truly earned the honor."

"Thank you, ser." Brienne's cheeks were pink, and Margaery felt a sudden, black feeling in her chest that she could not quite identify. It was almost like jealousy but jealousy would make little sense in this situation.

"I would have crowned you queen had I won," Loras said, as he escorted her from the royal box. 

"Thank you, brother." It had been far more exciting to be crowned by a brother at the age of twelve. Although she could not dismiss the likelihood, of course, that Brienne had done it solely out of obligation to her queen. Who else would she have crowned? 

**

Brienne stood outside her tent, listening to the chatter from the royal pavilion. Due to her victory, the king had given her the night off from her guard duties and she had spent the time in solitude, preparing for the melee in two days' time. She had been unsure of entering both events—participating in an official tourney was a new experience for her, but she enjoyed the challenge. She had at first thought to do only the melee, confident in her skill there, but she had then decided, all on a whim, that the lists were something she should like to experience.

Winning had been the last thing she'd expected, but it pleased her to have proved herself capable, even against these strong opponents. She thought of Queen Margaery's smile when she'd placed the crown of roses on her head. It had warmed her to see it, had reminded her why she had longed to be a knight in the first place. Her primary purpose had been to protect the king, but ever since she had found her way onto his guard, she had found herself spending more time with the queen. Queen Margaery was good and worthy of Brienne's protection.

Brienne raised the flap to step inside the tent, when she heard movement behind her. She turned quickly, surprised to see the queen's wide eyes in the torchlight. 

"Your Grace!" She bowed. "The queen should not be out at night without a guard."

Margaery smiled and stepped closer into the circle of light from the tent. "I think I can walk as safely through the tourney grounds as I would have before I was married."

Brienne frowned. "You ought not to have then either. You were a maiden with your virtue to think of."

Margaery laughed, but it did not seem mocking to Brienne, though she still had the sense that she was not in on the joke. Either way, the queen looked lovely in the dim light, and Brienne was surprised by this thought. She had sometimes entertained a wish to be delicate and sweet, but there was no denying her nature. 

"You might say the same for yourself, my lady," Margaery said.

Brienne felt her cheeks grow hot at the honorific. Margaery had never before addressed her as such. "You can hardly paint me with the same brush, my queen."

"Nonsense." Margaery's eyes sparkled with mirth. "We are both ladies."

 _Both ladies, aye, but very different kinds._ Brienne realized suddenly that she was forgetting her manners. "Please, come sit with me, Your Grace."

"Thank you." Margaery accepted the offered chair and Brienne drew up another. This was a strange social call, and she did not know how to proceed. What was the expected protocol for a surprise nighttime visit from the queen?

"I wanted to thank you, Brienne—may I call you Brienne?" Brienne nodded. Margaery continued. "I wanted to thank you for the concern you showed my brother. He was your opponent and you had just defeated him, but you thought nothing of your victory and only of concern for him. That is commendable."

"I would never dream of doing anything else, Your Grace. Ser Loras is my brother knight and we serve you and the king together. It is a knight's duty." She paused. "Though I am not truly a knight."

"And I consider us lucky to have your service, knighthood or no."

"I am honored that the king should consider me such." Brienne still did not know what to say to Margaery, but she did not wish her to leave. 

For a moment, there was no sound but that of distant revelry until Margaery at last spoke again. "May I ask you a personal question, Lady Brienne?"

"Of course, Your Grace." _Though I know not what you could desire to know of me._

"Why did you wish to become a knight?"

Brienne felt a strange rush of heat. She could not remember anyone having asked this question earnestly. "Because it was all that I could be. I could not be a lady. I did not have your talents, however much I tried when I was a young girl. I might have tried harder, but I put myself into learning lance and sword rather than song and dance, and before long, it was too late to go back. I could not choose the other path."

"Would you choose it if you could?"

Brienne paused. No one had ever been curious to know this about her before. "I do not think so. Had I married one of the men my father chose for me, I would have tried my best to be his lady, but I do not think I could have done as well as I can do in King Renly's guard. He—and you—are certainly more deserving."

"I think you are very brave, Brienne. To continue to do this when so many doubt you."

Brienne felt the warmth in her cheeks again. "I do not know that all would call it bravery, Your Grace. I think it could be named something else."

"Perhaps by some, but I, who have nothing sharper than a needle in my arsenal, would call it bravery. You continue doing what you believe is right, even when you have more doubters than supporters. An ordinary person would have given up and retreated long ago."

"I was not blessed with the skills or the form of a lady. Instead, I am what the gods made me. In that situation, the best choice seemed to be to use those gifts such as they are, to the best advantage of those who need me."

"Well, we thank you, Lady Brienne." Margaery rose. "Will you not join your own victory celebration? The king had wondered where you were."

Brienne shook her head. "I will take you back, Your Grace, but I will not remain. I prefer the solitude. The king has been good enough to give me the night off and I will use the time to rest." 

They did not speak as they went back to the royal pavilion, Margaery on Brienne's arm. She thought that even if Margaery had spoken to her, she would not have been able to reply. 

Given the choice, she might have walked forever in the night, under the stars, with the queen on her arm.

**

The next day was given to the archery and single-combat contests. 

"Warrior be good, I can make up for my showing of yesterday," Loras said. He was attending as Renly and Margaery broke their fasts privately. "I cannot work out what went wrong."

Margaery laughed. "What went wrong, brother, is that Lady Brienne was the stronger rider that day."

Loras opened his mouth to reply, but Renly slipped an arm about his shoulders. 

"If I were you, I would cease there, Loras, and put my mind to today. There are other battles to be won."

"I wish you both the best of skill today," Margaery told them. "You do not need luck."

"I would have taken your luck," Renly said. "Or your control of the wind, if you happen to have any. Only when I am shooting, mind you. Feel free to allow the arrows of other men to be blown off course."

"I shall make every effort, my dear husband."

The day was as beautiful as yesterday, and Margaery watched Loras, true to his word, best his opponent in combat.

After luncheon, Renly departed for the archery, Loras at her side, and Margaery found herself again with Brienne.

"Did you enjoy your rest of last night?" she asked as they climbed the stairs to her seat in the stands.

Brienne blushed pink. _I think she does not know how sweet she truly is_ , Margaery thought. "It was very restful, Your Grace. I feel reenergized and ready for the melee tomorrow."

"Good." Margaery took her seat and arranged her skirts about her, conscious somehow, of being watched. She supposed that was what a protector must do. "I expect you to win, of course." 

"I will do my best, Your Grace."

The afternoon stretched on interminably without Renly and Loras' company. Instead, she was faced with the pleasant discomfort of sitting beside Brienne. When indeed had it become uncomfortable? She chanced a glance at the lady knight's face and found herself under scrutiny as well. They both looked away, Margaery knowing her face was burning.

Like any girl, she had spent her life dreaming of a knight out of song, but she had not been long in maidenhood before she had decided there were no true knights. Each man had something with which to disrecommend him, and Margaery had given up the dream of finding the perfect man the moment she had agreed to participate in her brother and Renly's plan to tempt Robert away from Cersei. While no doubt Renly was a more pleasant person, he was not by any means a husband in any true sense of the word, though she now considered him her dearest friend outside her blood relations. 

She now wondered, however, if there might be an example of true knighthood seated right beside her.

This was enough to occupy her mind until supper. 

"Wife, you failed to direct the wind away from most of my arrows," Renly told her that evening when they were alone in their tent.

She smiled sweetly. "Perhaps I did not want you to win." 

"Oh? And who perchance did you determine to be the victor?"

Margaery's mind went blank. She could not remember for her life who had won.

"Or was your mind elsewhere?" Renly was grinning. 

She had no response. Her wits had utterly failed her.

"Your mind should have been on the competition and not on me," she said at last. "Perhaps that was why you lost." 

"People do expect a man to look at his wife." There was a long pause and Renly rubbed his face. "Margaery, if you have an interest in Brienne, I wish you only the best of luck." He grinned toothily. "Or skill."

Margaery had become used to Renly leaping to conclusions but this was a long jump indeed. "What do you—"

"Ah, Margaery, when I was doing my husbandly duty of watching you, I saw that I was not alone. While you were trying resolutely not to look at her, Lady Brienne could not take her eyes off you."

Margaery felt the heat rise on her neck. It was madness, though she well remembered the moment their eyes had locked. "It cannot be. She—" Margaery looked down at her lap, blushing furiously. She disliked being anything but utterly composed around Renly.

"You are my wife, Margaery. While we may not have a conventional relationship, we have still sworn to be open with each other. I desire nothing more than your happiness."

"I am not asking for permission."

"I know. I would never dream of having to give it. What can I do to ease your mind?"

"Nothing." She was still not sure of her feelings—or Brienne's. She could do nothing if she was not _sure_. Margaery never did anything if she wasn't exactly certain of how her plan would work out. "Unless you can make me certain."

"I know what I saw with mine own eyes."

Margaery frowned. "What can I do?"

"Exactly what you would do with any knight who drew your attention. Is that not what she has done?" 

"Could I really?" She felt foolish asking the question. In fact, much of this entire situation made her feel foolish, which she loathed. "It is absurd."

"A lady gives her token to a knight whom she esteems. I can think of many more absurd things than that." Renly paused. "Besides, many things worth doing are indeed quite absurd. Indecision does not become you, Margaery. Either Lady Brienne shares your interest, or she will simply accept her queen's favor with due affection. You will not know unless you proceed further." 

"You are right." Margaery rose, speaking with more boldness than she truly felt. "I shall do it."

"Good luck."

Margaery felt as confident as she could in walking the grounds without an escort for the second night in a row, but she felt nothing of the sort when it came to how she would present her favor to Brienne, whom she again found sitting outside her tent, taking the air.

"Your Grace." Brienne stood and bowed. "What brings you out again at night?"

Already prepared, Margaery held out the pendent she would give as her favor. It was not of great monetary value, but Margaery had long admired the stone Willas had brought back from a trip to Sunspear, for how perfectly smooth it had been worn by the river. "I will be watching the melee eagerly tomorrow and hope to give you this."

"Your favor?" Brienne's eyes widened. "You would not give it to the king? Or your brother?"

"The king is not participating, and my brothers understand I am free to give my favor to whomever I should wish." She paused. "The king understands that, as well."

Brienne still looked confused, but she clumsily accepted the token. Margaery hoped her meaning had been clear. "I will wear it with pride, Your Grace. Would you be so good as to put it on me?"

Brienne knelt before her and Margaery's fingers fumbled as she tied the cord around her neck. She had deliberately chosen it because of the simple cord; it would be more comfortable worn under armor. 

"Thank you, Your Grace." Brienne took Margaery's hand and brought it to her lips. "I will bring it safely back to you."

"As the victor, I should hope."

"With your favor, I could do no less."

Brienne allowed her the dignity of walking back to her tent by herself, for which Margaery was glad, because she did not think she could have remained another moment in her presence.

**

Brienne approached the melee cautiously. That melee at Bitterbridge had held the prospect of a spot on Renly's guard at the end of it, a motivation to win. Brienne had had no such prospect in the joust of two days ago. She had wanted to do her best to prove her own worth to herself, but she cared little for her own glory. 

The weight of Margaery's token around her neck, however, was more motivation than she had ever felt before. She longed for the prospect that her victory might make Margaery smile, and her thoughts dwelt long on Margaery's words. What had she meant that she was free to give her favor? 

These musings consumed her, even as she sought sleep. When she rose in the morning, it was purely the promise of the match ahead which fueled her. 

In the melee at Bitterbridge, she had been cautious, moving under the notice of others because they did not believe she was a danger to them. Her opponents had been saving her to the last because they viewed her as easy to take out. This time, her reputation preceded her and she was exhausted by the time she reached the final combatants.

Her last opponent was Ser Garrett Flowers, a bastard cousin of Margaery's, she could tell for he had her eyes. It was a good fight, and she appreciated him for giving her a fair match. She had been accustomed to dirty tricks and being underestimated and when he dropped to yield, they were both well and truly spent.

"Thank you, ser," she said, offering him a hand up.

"Thank you, my lady, for the challenge." His eyes sparkled with good humor and she felt a rush of satisfaction different from that at Bitterbridge. She had certainly never smiled at her opponents there. 

The celebration of Brienne's victory carried on into the evening, and this time, she did allow herself to be drawn into it. There was music, wine, feasting, and dancing, and for the first time, she felt truly accepted as one of the company. Her brothers of the Kingsguard congratulated her heartily, and Garrett Flowers raised her a toast. 

The only disappointing thing was that she did not get to speak to Margaery. 

It was only later, when Brienne went outside for some air, that she sensed a presence behind her that had become quite familiar over the past several days.

"There seems to be a commonality in our meetings, Your Grace."

"I hope I'm not intruding." 

"Not at all." Victory was giving Brienne a certain confidence. When she turned to look at Margaery, it was without caution or shame. "I do wish to give you back your favor."

"I am pleased to see it served you well."

"I could do no less after you smiled upon me, my queen." Brienne stepped closer, marveling at her own boldness. All her uncertainties of the night before seemed to have evaporated in the rush of victory. 

Margaery's smile was wry. "It was simply a stone. It was your own skill, my lady."

"And your favor gave me something to fight for. A knight needs that most of all." Brienne took Margaery's hand in hers and brought it to her lips. "I could do no better than to fight for you, Your Grace."

Margaery's hand moved to cup her cheek. Brienne had never felt worthy of such gentleness, but the gesture filled her with warmth regardless. 

"And I could not ask for a better knight."

Brienne thought her heart might stop when Margaery brought her mouth down to hers. It was a light, chaste kiss, as sweet as summer, and Brienne was unprepared to relax into it. 

"Your Grace, I could not—"

"Have no concerns," Margaery said firmly. There was a confidence in her eyes Brienne utterly lacked, but found she loved in the queen. _She has her own bravery_ , Brienne thought, _and I can little match it._ "When I said I was free to give my favor to whomever I deemed worthy, I spoke the truth." 

While Brienne had heard the rumors, she had not considered they might be true until now, nor had she considered what their being true might mean. After all, she had never entertained this idea before a scant two days ago. 

"Your Grace…"

"Lady Brienne." Margaery's soft hand moved from her face to the back of her neck urging her down once more. This kiss was deeper and more intimate, raising an urgent heat in her chest. Margaery's teeth grazed Brienne's lower lip and she let out an unconscious groan. 

Margaery drew back and pressed a teasing finger to Brienne's lips. "We must still exercise some discretion, my lady."

The boldness overtook Brienne once more as she drew Margaery close. "Of course, Your Grace. But I should think no one will disturb us out here in the dark." 

"And I will feel quite protected with you at my side."


End file.
